


and he's blue

by iamslytherlocked



Category: Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 10:05:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5623390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamslytherlocked/pseuds/iamslytherlocked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Tharkay sees blue, it is five years after Britain has forsaken him and three years after he leaves the cool mountains of Nepal. </p><p> </p><p>or alternatively, a Laurence/Tharkay modern colourblind soulmate au.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Scotland | Nepal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [impulserun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/impulserun/gifts).



> I figured there was an extreme lack of modern aus in this fandom and decided to try my hand at a soulmate au. Much research was done for the smallest things but it was fun all the same. Thank you to my betas, amy, ashley and nic who really helped me put this fic together in one piece. 
> 
> Title from [Colours](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TNt28Tx-cw0) by Halsey.
> 
> Enjoy!

The first time Tharkay sees blue, it is five years after Britain has forsaken him and three years after he leaves the cool mountains of Nepal. 

 

He knows the concept of blue exists, even as a child. It’s hard to miss when everyone notices something you just cannot see. Supposedly, it is the colour of the sky, the trickle of stream water in the moors he used to frolic in and the harebells that grow in large swathes near the manor. 

 

Grey -  that is what it has always looked like to him. A cold, muted grey. When you wake up to such a tired colour everyday, the world is a dreary place indeed. If you saw grey long enough, you’d to start to feel it too.

 

A tutor once told him the view of spring from his room was mesmerising. Tharkay had glanced at the wispy clouds limping across a dull sky. Then his eyes had lowered to the drooping flowers devoid of life poking out under his windowsill. He just nods. She had smiled and they moved on with their lessons. Her eyes, too, were grey.

 

The idea of soulmates is not unfamiliar to him. That is all his various aunts and cousins and who-knows-what-else will talk about during afternoon tea. Of course, they never talked to  _ him _ . But he knows.  _ A soulmate is your life _ , they say. A _ soulmate is the other half you never know you’re missing _ , they say. You  _ need _ a soulmate,  _ everyone _ has a soulmate.

 

Yet, for as long as he had lived in Daldowie House nothing changed. There was no soulmate. Grey had long since stopped being a colour anymore. It became lonelier. The skies barely shift with the seasons. Rain only made the stone walls colder at the manor. He had been stuck waiting for a dawn that never arrived.  _ He _ became lonelier.

 

It didn’t take long for grey to enter their household either. A week after he turned eighteen, his father was struck down by a heart attack. It had been a shock to the household and heartbreaking for Tharkay. 

 

His father had been detached, but he had loved him in his own, quiet way. He always made sure he was well cared for, and provided him with excellent tutors. Better at least, than his other relatives.  _ They _ blamed his mother for dirtying their spotless lineage and saddling them with a tainted child. 

 

Grey was the death of his father. It had been the translucency of his pale skin and lifeless body. It had been the pressed lapels of his pinstripe suit. Someone must have clothed him in blue but all Tharkay saw was the colour that never left his eyes.

 

Once his father, the only person that had kept him tethered to Daldowie, was laid to rest, Tharkay leaves. (It was raining then. A day just as grey as any other. It had been convenient: the rain hid his tears.) 

 

Forfeiting his trust fund, the estate, his inheritance, he had packed up in the dead of night. They meant as much to him as his father’s beloved paternal family did: nothing. All to tread a careful path towards the last of his lost mother’s relatives. 

 

There was nothing left for him in Scotland but more grey. And he’s already had eighteen years worth. Perhaps Nepal will the offer the chance of something special.

 

No one had missed him. (The cold stillness of the Daldowie never draws him back.)

 

x

 

He spends a good couple of years in the warmth of Kathmandu Valley, learning his roots. Nepal is vibrant where Scotland is calm. It’s a welcome change. The buildings were just as raucous as the people were. In their vivid hues of reds and yellows, the valley remained steeped in culture and tradition, resilient against the power of urbanisation. 

 

The grey dissipates for a while as colour seeps in. It is a kind of thrill to see something other than grey, even if the mountains will never be high enough to block it all out completely.

 

Finding his aunt hadn’t been easy. 

 

It took him a good couple of months before he even found the neighbourhood his mother had been born in. The city of Bhaktapur was decidedly separate from the greatly urbanised Kathmandu. Being rival cities in the past did that to you. Modernisation has yet to hit it strong, so Bhaktapur was as soft as Kathmandu was solid, hewn out of a burst in technology. He much prefered waking up to sunlight glinting across raised paddy fields anyway. He finds their sharp green colour a welcome change to the washed out grass of the moors. The world looked less grey with colour in the foreground.

 

But it worked out in the end. His mother’s relatives had been wary at first but still welcoming in their cautiousness.  It helped that he was recognisably his mother’s son. He stayed with them for the rest of his time in Nepal. 

 

Skies are as constant as they come - it remained as grey as it had been back in Daldowie. At least he gets to see the sunset here. 

 

In Bhaktapur, colour is felt in the lives of the Nepalese. Not just in their surroundings. Maybe the streets are more brown, and the roofs more red, but in the people you feel the purples, the yellows, the greens, the  _ blues _ . They are luminous and joyful, even if they don't have what everyone else in the world think they need. They love bodily, fully. And they adore their soulmates like their life depends on it. 

 

They tell him that.  _ You’ll find your soulmate one day, Tenzing, if not here. Have faith. They are looking for you too. _

 

It had been a good two years. But Nepal can only do so much for him before Tharkay wants to leave again. His family had helped him to feel something less like grey. But when they talked of soulmates, it would creep back through the colours and sit itself at his throat. He knew he could not stay. 

 

So he had packed his bags yet again to take himself back to Britain. 

 

His family had cried when he left. They had clutched desperately at his shirt, tears wetting his front and neck, unsettling him with a torrent of well-wishes. He remembered trying  _ so _ hard not to break apart. 

 

By the time he boarded the plane to London, the grey had slithered back in. He does not look out the window. Not even when the plane bumps down in Heathrow Airport.


	2. London

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tharkay finally meets Laurence.

He is twenty-three, and two years into a linguistics degree at UCL when he finally sees blue.

 

By then, the constant grey in his heart is a usual presence now, together with that of the dreary London streets. It is better than Daldowie in any case. Scotland is a different kind of grey, an isolated one. Here at least he feels somewhat alive. It may be wet but the town is always abuzz with life, love and noise. He has made friends here, and that already far overshoots anything he had at Daldowie.

 

The disappearing happens so fast he barely catches who it is.

 

Euston Square on a Monday is packed to the brim with business, tourists and chaotic students from the nearby universities. Curling his red scarf around his nose, he attempts to fight his way onto the street when a solid body collides into him.

 

Tharkay is about to apologise when their eyes meet briefly. For a moment, the oddest, most refreshing colour enters his vision. One he just cannot put into words. His mind churns to find something to describe that brightness sparkling in the stranger’s eyes, but Tharkay comes up with nothing.

 

When he comes to again, the body has already retreated into the crowd. He sees blond hair curled into a bun and a dark, unfamiliar coat colour - and hold on - did he just see -  is that - _blue?_

 

He looks to the sky immediately and almost cries _._

 

It is one of those days where London clearly felt good about itself and chose not to rain. The sky is a transparent wash of _colour,_ devoid of clouds. And it is _beautiful._ Where there used to be grey, it’s just the soft, calming hue of _blue_. It’s wonderful and he never wants to stop staring.

 

Time spent marvelling at the azure of the sky however, is time he does not have. Not when his soulmate is disappearing right before his eyes amidst the bodies in front of him. He feels hope exploding in his stomach as his feet start moving.

 

 _Blue, blue, blue_.

 

His mind screams as he presses through the crowd. He has crashed into at least five people now by stumbling over shoes into their backs. His hands are shaking as his eyes dart over the crowd and _please please please just let me_ find _him._

 

He sees a flash of blue in front of him and his heart almost cries with relief.

 

It isn’t him.

 

There is no blond hair and the blue coat is all wrong. The woman turns to face him with confusion in her eyes and he deflates. He lets her go.

 

Bodies push and shove around him. Whoever he had originally been looking for is long gone. He may never find him now. What are the odds of glimpsing your soulmate and already losing him forever?

 

Tharkay wants to throw himself into a drain and cry.

 

After so much grey, colour had finally come back to his life and he’d let everything slip away between his fingers. Now instead of rediscovering himself, he has a colour to remind him everyday of what he’s lost.

 

He takes a cab home. The driver talks about the fine weather they are having and Tharkay agrees numbly. Blue has never felt more lonely.

 

He sleeps early.

 

(Worried texts were ignored that day.)

 

x

 

Tharkay shakes awake from the last dregs of his dream to loud pounding on his door.

 

He is almost glad for whoever is creating a riot outside. Last night was an unending rewind of a retreating blue coat, close enough but always, _always_ just slightly too far. His fingers would brush up on its soft edges, hauntingly real under his touch. The tingling, warm wool feels like hope and for a moment he’d think _finally_. But then the blue will slip away again and the grey comes back. The chase continues.

 

What a night.

 

He rolls out of bed with his comforter around his waist to land with a thump on the ground. Scrambling around on the bedside table, he finally finds his glasses and carelessly shoves them on. The pounding on his door continues.

 

Can stumbling to the door in your underwear be considered sexual harassment? Maybe. Tharkay decides to drag the comforter with him to the door just in case. He holds it up at his waist as he shuffles ungainly towards it. His feet feel heavy.

 

Still disoriented, he squints blearily through the peephole to see Sara glaring at the door. He opens the door in bewilderment for her, and she stomps through. A light drizzle starts up outside but Sara doesn’t even look like any water has got her at all.

 

He frowns at the sky. Grey. That’s London for you. He still hates it but for now it is a welcome change to _blue_.

 

“Twelve missed calls, forty messages and it didn’t strike you to, I don’t know, answer them?” She demands, after he clicks the door shut.

 

“Wh-at…?” He murmurs, swaying lightly on his feet.

 

Sara rolls her eyes and strides into the kitchen. Tharkay stares. There’s a whir as she brings the electric kettle to a quick boil and comes back with a mug of jasmine tea. This she shoves into Tharkay’s hands before flitting away into his room. The comforter pools at his feet, forgotten.

 

He sips at the foaming beverage, the steam fogs up his glasses. His mind slowly catches up.

 

“Oh,” he intones.

 

“Oh is right,” replies Sara, as she thrusts his phone into his face. The phone beeps with notifications. “Look at this. Look at all these unread messages.”

 

“I can’t see anything when you press it all up against my face like that.” Tharkay says, shutting his eyes to the brightness of the screen. He continues sipping at his tea.

 

“God, you’re useless in the mornings.” Sara chides. She places the phone on the dining table. “I can’t believe you put the phone on Do Not Disturb.”

 

“No,” he intones again. He stares down at his cooling mug mournfully, hypnotised by the loose leaves of tea that has escaped the teabag. What did Sara just say?

 

Hold on, why is Sara here again? Right, he didn’t answer the messages and the calls.

 

“Do you have anything to say?”

 

Tharkay doesn’t reply. This causes Sara to press harder. “Anything at all?”

 

His voice is quiet when he replies.

 

“I feel like shit.”

 

Sara studies his face, eyebrows furrowing in concern. Whatever she sees, Tharkay knows she isn’t happy about it. She had always been more introspective than most. It’s why she is a business major.

 

She bends to pick the comforter off the floor and wraps it around Tharkay like a tight cocoon.

 

“Let’s talk.”

 

x

 

Tharkay is on his fourth mug of tea by the time they’re done. He tells Sara everything. The grey, about Daldowie, about his father and his paternal relatives and the _loneliness_. About how even in Nepal, no matter how much his family loved him with so much colour he never stopped feeling the one colour that numbed him most.

 

He can’t tell whether the tremors in his hands are from the four mugs of tea or from the whole soulmate thing anymore. His comforter remains wound around him, and he curls in tighter on the couch, hands gripping his now empty mug.

Sara pries it away from his fingers. The mug goes on the coffee table with a clack before she sits down next to him. He slots his head in the space between her neck when she pries a section of his comforter around her too. Her hair tickles his nose but for a moment he can forget about finally seeing blue and losing it in the same day.

 

“There’s always the internet.” She says softly, curving into his side and tucking her legs under her.

 

He laughs until he realises that Sara is being serious. “There are more than six million users in London alone. It’s impossible,” he quips.

 

Sara looks inspired. “It doesn’t hurt to try. With Twitter anything can happen. Maybe if you just put it out there that-”

 

For a moment, Tharkay thinks of that possibility. He knows soulmates have found themselves through facebook and twitter before. Connecting people has never been easier with social media. Plus news outlets gobble that shit up. Except it’s literally one in a billion. Tharkay doesn’t even know _a name_ to put to the face. Where on earth can he even start looking? He can’t just google ‘blond man in blue coat’. Life doesn’t work that way.

 

“It isn’t going to work.” He says. The comforter slips off his back when he leans forward. He may have slept at 6pm last night but he has never felt more tired. Sara makes a noise of disagreement, sitting up as well.

 

He rubs furiously at his face. If only he can remove the memory of _blue_ in front of his eyes and bring back that hated grey instead. Because now, when he thinks of blue, he thinks of a warm body in a pretty coat, and the smattering of stubble on the profile of a man he doesn’t even remember.

 

Bright colours explode under his palms the harder he rubs. He sinks back against the couch cushions as stars dance across his closed eyes. “Look, Sara I’ll be fine. It’s just - I’m still reeling. Give me some time. It’s nothing I’m not used to. You know me.”

 

Indignant, Sara grips his arm. “That’s the problem. I _know_ you. You always say you’re fine but then you swallow it down and pretend it never happened! You don’t have to get used to it. You don’t need to. Maybe you’re used to pushing everything away because you’re afraid to be alone again but Tharkay, you’re _not_ . I’m here. And I’m here to _care_. Let me help.”

 

Tharkay feels caught. Years of suppressing the grey from overwhelming him tells him that Sara is right. He has tread alone for too long.

 

In Daldowie, solitude had been unavoidable. When the people there had actively pushed him away into isolation, it was something you learn to deal with. It was baggage you learn to shoulder. But Nepal… Had he been afraid to reach out too much? Maybe. Would he have stayed even if he did? Probably not. Subconsciously he knew Bhaktapur was missing a piece of something he would have traveled the world to find.

 

Nepal was merely a pit-stop, not a haven.

 

London was supposed to be a pit-stop too. No matter how far or how long his journey, he did still want an education. So he decided to get one. Two jobs and an apartment later, he has a new best friend and numerous linguistics classes to hammer through.

 

And here they are. He finds his soulmate, the grey has morphed to blue and honestly? They don’t feel all that different.

 

The only thing different now is he now has someone willing to help, but only if he let them.

 

He lets her.

 

She beams like he gifted her the moon.

 

They end the day kicking and giggling at parks and recreation, curled into each other. If having a soulmate is anything close to this, Tharkay thinks, it will be worth the wait.

 

x

 

It’s impossible to forget something as monumental as finding a new colour, but school gets busy enough for two weeks. The work helps Tharkay distract himself from thinking about blues and grey without too much effort. Two weeks is also the time it took for the trail to finally pick up.

 

“Tenzing, you need to look at this,” Sara announces excitedly one afternoon. The laptop she is carrying slaps Tharkay in the stomach as she flops upon the couch beside him. She crosses her legs, proud of herself. “Think you might be interested.”

 

“What the flipping fuck,” he groans, rubbing at the spot where the hard edge of the macbook had gutted him. Sara merely nods at the abandoned computer heating up his lap. Tharkay clicks his tongue before he slides his linguistics notes away from him to tug the laptop closer.

 

The light blue background, little blue bird and hashtags are immediately familiar. “Twitter. _That’s_ what you wanted to show me?” Tharkay asks dryly.

 

Sara motions vigorously for him to go on. He rolls his eyes for good measure before proceeding to scroll through the hashtags. The more he reads, the higher Tharkay’s brows rise. Pretty soon, they’re going to fly right off his forehead.

 

 _@potatopotahtoe: cmon guys signal boost RT_ _@granbae_ _hey twitter let’s help a guy find his one true love_ _https://youtu.be/TNt28Tx-cw0_ #eustonwehaveaproblem

 

 _@bbc: Social Media and their Role in the Soulmate Race_ _bbc.in/Lvh74jk_ _#eustonwehaveaproblem_

 

 _@disciplineddissidents: i dont understand_ #eustonwehaveaproblem _. so we’re just going crazy over a hot guy cause he can’t find his soulmate?_

 

 _@joelladeville: @disciplineddissidents pretty much. but if he can’t find them i volunteer as tribute_ #eustonwehaveaproblem

 

@taylorswift13 ✔ awww _RT @granbae hey twitter let’s help a guy find his one true love_ _youtu.be/TNt28Tx-cw0_ #eustonwehaveaproblem

 

 _@buzzfeed: Man Rockets to Twitter Fame to Find Soulmate_ _bzfd.it/A3nb8o_ #eustonwehaveaproblem

 

 _@jeremyisrankinitup: damn son you fine RT @granbae hey twitter let’s help a guy find his one true love_ _youtu.be/TNt28Tx-cw0_ #eustonwehaveaproblem

 

 _@cardona98: hey this reminds of @saramageddon’s tweets didnt her best friend gain his colours somewhere at euston square too_ #eustonwehaveaproblem

 

 _@UCLUbizsoc @saramageddon text me now it’s abt_ #eustonwehaveaproblem i think youd need to know about this

 

Elation swirls within Tharkay, his smile widening. _Someone else is looking for him too._ The video link he clicks on is shakey callout by a tall brunette man, who then turns to film a blond. Not just any blond. It is _the_ blond. The one he had bumped into on the streets of Euston Square Station.

 

Introducing himself as William Laurence, he proceeds to look disastrously adorable while recounting his soulmate encounter. Red scarf, brown leather jacket, black hair. Eyes meeting for a fraction for a second. Not realising that a new colour had been revealed to them until their soulmate has disappeared off the streets.

 

He is just as beautiful as Tharkay remembers. (No wonder the internet is going nuts over the guy.)

 

It takes everything for Tharkay not to run out the door to look for Laurence right then. He cannot be this lucky. He has _never_ been this lucky before and yet, _yet_ by a brilliant stroke of good fortune, the world has decided to lead Laurence to him. In two weeks, no less. Sara looks like is she about to crow out an ‘I told you so’ the longer he reads.

 

A ridiculous amount of hashtags and clickbait articles later, Sara’s eyes widen suddenly. She rips the laptop away, leaving Tharkay to grasp at air. As if in a trance she starts to mumble quietly to herself,  fingers flying across the keyboard. Tharkay observes her with apprehension.

 

“Are you… okay?” He asks, hesitantly. Sara seems not to have heard, so he waits.

 

Sara looks fit to explode the faster she types. Ten minutes later, she finally looks up. “Hold on, give me a sec. I’m a having a breakthrough in the case.”

 

“What breakthrough?”

 

“I’m wrangling you a meeting with Sir Blond,” says Sara, ecstatic. She seems to be bouncing with energy. “Remember Edith Galman? Project mate from Business Analytics? She comes over a lot. She just tweeted me with the BizSoc account. Turns out, she _knows_ him. They’re childhood _friends_.”

 

She speaks so quickly that Tharkay almost doesn’t catch her. Childhood friends? Coincidences like this even exist in the real world? It can’t be that easy. Maybe Sara was right about the internet after all. It is crazy how the smallest things can blow up for no reason. In this case, it blew up to his benefit. A small video about soulmates, and here they are, they’ve found him.

 

Tharkay straightens up with attention. “Laurence studies at UCL?”

 

“No, King’s. English in Education, postgrad. I think he was going to meet Edith for tea the day you bumped into him. That’s what she tells me anyway.” Sara replies, showing him her conversation with Edith on Telegram.

 

Of course he wouldn’t be UCL. That’s just Tharkay hoping for more when he already has so much. It doesn’t stop him from deflating with disappointment though. “Imagine if he actually were UCL. My life will actually become a soap,” says Tharkay.

 

“Like it isn’t already.” She grins and motions for him to lean closer. “Come on, let’s talk to Edith. You _do_ want to meet Laurence, don’t you?”

 

x

 

The afternoon Laurence and Tharkay arrange to meet, they decide on a cafe called Peyton and Byrne, only a short walk away from Euston Square Station. It’s cozily sequestered in a small museum, convenient for if they feel up to lengthening their first date. Tharkay determinedly re-wears the outfit he wore in their first fateful meeting, the red scarf, the brown jacket. Turns out Laurence has the same idea because he turns up in the sleek, blue coat, blond hair in a bun and all.

 

(Blue is a radiant colour on Laurence. It fits him like a glove: noble, solid and reliable. Blue is William Laurence.)

 

Laurence is nervous and fidgety when Tharkay first approaches him. From what he heard (Sara and Edith were helpful that way), Laurence is pretty quiet, but he’s kind and honourable. He never likes to stand out, but still ends up becoming the de facto leader for everything he attempts anyway. However, Edith had said, he does have a tendency to be oblivious at times. He is anything but innocent, she had added as many winks were exchanged, but he does occasionally appear to be wrapped up in his own world. At some point, Tharkay will probably have to forgive him for being stupidly obtuse.

 

They sit at their reserved table, looking anywhere but at each other. It’s painfully tense when the waiter approaches them for their order. Eventually, Laurence is first to pluck up the courage and break the ice when their food arrives. Tharkay finally stops awkwardly sipping at his rose tea to dig into some warm scones.

 

“So uh, I’ve never really done this before.” Laurence mumbles while playing with his coat sleeve. His tomato quiche is abandoned on the plate. His tea however - Earl Grey - is consumed quickly.

 

Tharkay swallows his scone down with a scalding mouthful of tea. He scowls and Laurence gazes over with concern. “You mean dating?”

 

Laurence nods as he pours himself another cup of Earl Grey.

 

Surprised, Tharkay inquires further. “No one ever chased you down before?”

 

This seems to make Laurence think. “Not that I know of? I know there were a couple of girls in my class who took a liking to me but nothing really happened.” He smiles warmly like the girls are a sweet memory. “Maybe I’m just not a sensible target.”

 

Laurence appears thoroughly convinced of his apparent non-appeal to the general King's College public. Tharkay finds that hard to believe. For one, Laurence is attractive. He’s tall with a clean, well-cut look to him. He is friendly and had been nothing short of polite since they met. It’s impossible for Laurence not to have at least a few admirers.

 

Then Tharkay recalls Edith mentioning Laurence’s inattention to romantic pursuits. This guy can have a legion of fans out there and he probably still won’t notice. (Technically he does have some now, due to the whole twitter debacle.)

 

“Twitter begs to differ. There are some thirsty fans of yours out there.” Tharkay quips, piling jam and cream onto a new scone. Had he sounded casual and amused enough? He bites into it, the soft crust breaking against his tongue. A spot of cream marks his upper lip, so he licks it off for propriety’s sake. Maybe ordering something less messy will have been a better choice.

 

Laurence pinks lightly before he grabs for his tea. “I’ve seen some stuff they say about me and I- I am very grateful but um- I don’t think their demands are exactly what I need, or want for that matter.”

 

“What exactly _are_ these demands of yours?” Tharkay tries, forging bravely into the unfamiliar territory of flirting. He puts down his scone and thinks of his leather jacket. He thinks about Harrison Ford and being ruggedly handsome and _he can be cool he can do this_.

 

Laurence’s jaw drops momentarily but he regains his composure quickly. With more tea.“That’s very forward of you but I think it’s more a second, third date kind of question.”

 

He screwed up; flirting was a bad idea. That was a terrible line and Tharkay hates himself. _Aren’t you a hypocrite_ , he thinks, _you’ve never dated before either_ . _Why are you teasing_ him _when you’re just as virginal?_

 

He backpedals to safer ground - neutral small talk. “Of course. Can you believe your video became such a big hit overnight?”

 

Fuck. He sounds like a reporter setting Laurence up for an awkward interview. Tharkay could barrel straight into a wall- the one next to their table looks pretty solid. He substitutes the wall with some mental facepalming.

 

 _You’re doing so well, Tenzing_.

 

Laurence responds enthusiastically, like it isn’t an awkward question at all for a date to ask. “I still can’t! My roommate, Granby, suggested the idea actually. He had a pretty decent twitter following and since I was okay with it we both filmed it. Who knew it’d explode the way it did. Honestly, I still don’t know why.”

 

“Well the video was visually appealing for one.”

 

Someone should tape Tharkay’s mouth together, or preferably run a brain to mouth filter for him. That will be nice too. He kind of needs one desperately. The only thing he has is the last scone on his plate. He eats that instead, covering it liberally with cream and jam.

 

“Oh yeah, we stopped by the British Museum that day. I love that place” Laurence replies genially. He finally picks at his quiche. “Granby thought it’d be cool to include the building. Gives the video a romantic vibe or something? I didn’t understand but I just went along with it.”

 

Laurence undeniably just missed his atrocious attempt at flirting again.

 

Oblivious. Tharkay is almost thankful for that now. He hopes at least, that his face had remained a steady neutral for the entire conversation. If he had been been making faces at Laurence all through lunch while thinking to himself, he’ll be known as a lunatic forever.

 

With no idea how to actually approach the topic of being soulmates, Tharkay continues with his awkward interrogation. “Has anyone called you up yet? Like for interviews or anything like that? I figured reporters will be hounding your doorstep for your statement now.”

 

“They’ve been pretty civil so far. But Granby does get a lot of DMs on twitter. The comments section on youtube is always a wild ride.” Laurence replies, sipping at his tea like fame hasn’t altered him and being internet famous is child’s play.

 

It is astounding how unaffected Laurence is. Tharkay can’t comprehend it. Sure, he may be used to handling crowds, since his father loved to hold charity dinners back in Daldowie. There were plenty of affluent snobs he was expected to charm. But being placed on a pedestal as millions around the globe track your moves and obsess over you? He would have crumbled immediately.

 

“Don’t you hate the constant attention?” He asks.

 

“I like my privacy so no. I don’t like it very much. But I try not to think about it and hope for the best. Social media was never my thing, so there’s not much to know about me online anyway.”

 

“You’re… okay with it, right? The whole soulmate thing?” Tharkay asks uncertainly. “I mean the fame was probably unnecessary but-”

 

“It’ll blow over in time but hey, it served its purpose. I wanted to find my soulmate and it worked.” Laurence reassures. He leans closer to the table and Tharkay holds his breath. His eyes are as astoundingly blue as he remembered. “The internet helped me and I’m glad for that.”

 

“My friend suggested the same thing but I thought it was impossible,” comments Tharkay. But Sara had gone ahead and done it for him anyway. She had tweeted for him even though he did not want to. She fielded questions on twitter for him. She tracked down Laurence. Edith had noticed her efforts. Together, the girls were able to bring them together all with the help of one video. Without it, they may never have met.

 

Laurence laughs, full-bodied and joyful. Tharkay gulps down his cold tea to hide a smile he hopes isn’t too adoring. “I never expected to bump into my soulmate on the street either. Stranger things have happened.”

 

“Do you think this will all work out?” Tharkay asks, optimistic.

 

Features softening, Laurence stretches his hand across the table like an invitation. “I think I’d be willing to try.”

 

“Me too.”

 

Tharkay accepts the invitation, threading his fingers through the latter’s. Laurence’s hand wraps like a warm blanket of content. He thinks about how he hasn’t felt the grey ever since he had watched the sky shift into blue. How this time _blue_ feels less like desolation and more like home. Perhaps it’s wishful thinking or maybe they are truly soulmates, but in that moment, they are connected by more than touch alone.

 

They foot the bill, and step into the halls of the museum hand in hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Talk to me about headcanons @ [poedarnerons](http://poedarnerons.tumblr.com)! I have so many.  
> Kudos and comments will be much appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> Talk headcanons with me @ [poedarnerons](http://poedarnerons.tumblr.com). I have so many.  
> Kudos and comments will be very much appreciated.


End file.
